The Deflowering of Nagi Naoe
by NagiLite
Summary: Nagi begins obsessing over a certain American...but is his obsession what it seems?
1. ACT ONE: Imitation

Author: NagiLite  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: Would someone who OWNED Weiß Kreuz write fanfiction? O.o Somehow I doubt it.  
  
Warnings: Um, I can't say where this story is going...but there will most DEFINITELY be hints of shounen ai.  
  
Notes: Honestly, I couldn't think of a really catchy title...This just came to mind. ^-^v  
  
  
  
ACT ONE: Imitation  
  
  
  
He'd always enjoyed pain.  
  
Not his own, of course. He'd had so much pain already. He wasn't a masochist. No, he liked to watch as others were forced to feel the same agony he felt every day, the hurt in their eyes, the knowledge of betrayal, the way they kept on hoping until that faith snapped in two--  
  
And was gone.  
  
It was a terrible thing, despair. But he could identify with it, and he was fond of their despondency. He fed off of it, wrapping himself in it until his own problems disappeared. For a few moments in time, it felt so GOOD...  
  
Good in a dirty way.  
  
Afterwards he sometimes curled up in his bed with a book, loosing himself yet again, not to pain, but to fantasy. Not nearly as fun, but it pushed the guilt away.  
  
The obsession began simply enough. He noticed how sharp and in control Crawford looked in his white suits and glasses. He admired that control. He desired it. And he thought the only way to truly attain it was emulation.  
  
He hung up his boyish uniform and spent his paycheck on white coats, white shirts, white trousers, white ties.  
  
Schuldich teased his endlessly about it.  
  
"Na-gi," he said, drawing the name out into two distinct syllables, "You haven't got a CRUSH on Brad, have you?"  
  
"No," Nagi replied calmly.  
  
The next step was a pair of non-prescription glasses, since after all, Nagi's eyesight was 20/20. But the spectacles were a nice touch. He later stared at his reflection in quiet appreciation. He was much quieter now. What was there to talk about?  
  
He brushed his hair differently, forced it from its messy ways. It would have to behave from now on. Crawford's hair was rarely messy.  
  
If Crawford noticed the change, he didn't comment on it, passing by Nagi only at mealtimes and on Schwarz's missions that were few and far between.  
  
Nagi stopped singing in the shower; too childish. He only ate American food products and the occasional bowl of rice. Eventually, dust gathered on his once loved monitor--Crawford seldom used a computer, and so, neither did Nagi.  
  
/Bishounen, this obsession's going a little far./ Schuldich 'said', genuine worry in his thought-tone.  
  
"Keep out of my head," Nagi said, using a reply Crawford had used often.  
  
Snickering, Farfarello would stare at Nagi for long periods of time as if he knew something the telekinetic didn't. Nagi bore it stoically, because that's what Crawford would have done.  
  
On missions, Nagi was efficient and silent, hacking when it was needed, battling when asked. He smiled at the pain in his victim's eyes. It was a small part of himself that shined through his masquerade.  
  
But he felt in control. He could be who he wanted. Do what he wanted.  
  
At night in his dreams he saw brown eyes and a triumphant grin. White business suits, dancing through his head.  
  
Months passed.  
  
One day Nagi stood in front of his mirror, watching his reflection as it mimicked him. He was no longer Nagi. He realized that hurt more than all the pain he'd felt before. The Bastard Child of Schwarz, the angsty kid with the freaky powers, well, at least he'd BEEN someone! He shook his head and pulled off his Crawford-like glasses. He stripped away the white suit and ran a hand through his hair, smiling slightly as it went in every direction.  
  
At least he'd...been...SOMEONE...someone...he'd been...someone...  
  
He went to his closet and retrieved a crumpled gray uniform from the crooked hanger it had clung to for so long.  
  
He'd been someone.  
  
He'd been Nagi Naoe.  
  
The uniform was cool against his skin.  
  
His reflection nodded in approval.  
  
Nagi Naoe.  
  
Schuldich looked up at him when he plopped bonelessly on the living room couch.  
  
"Hey. You're you again."  
  
Nagi shrugged noncommittally. Schuldich rolled his eyes and went back to the program he was watching.  
  
Later that evening, when Crawford came home, Nagi caught himself staring at the man.  
  
Strange. The power that was contained in every movement. The control. Nagi knew it wasn't something that he could attain by mere imitation. And maybe he didn't want it for himself.  
  
Maybe he just liked the way it looked on Crawford.  
  
A warm glow spread over his cheeks.  
  
Schuldich gave him a knowing smirk. /Told you you had a crush on him./  
  
'Do not.'  
  
/Do too./  
  
'No way.'  
  
/Don't deny it./  
  
Nagi sighed and leaned his head on his arms, all the while keeping Crawford in his sight. 


	2. ACT TWO: Realization

Author: NagiLite

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Do I really need one? Don't own 'em.

ACT TWO: Realization

Nagi was by no means a stupid boy. In fact, when it came down to it, he was exceptionally intelligent. He was a hacker for a group of professional assassins, how could he not be? But when it came to emotions, the small Japanese boy was clueless.

So it was completely understandable that he wondered around for the next few days, himself again but somehow empty.

HE didn't have the slightest idea what was wrong.

But Schuldich did. And he was enjoying the show, thank you very much. Ah, yes, the gratification of seeing little Nagikins endure what psychiatrists cruelly called 'adolescence'. Honestly. The name did not fit the time period. 'Age of Angst and DOOM' was more like it. Schuldich made a mental note to remember that.

The sly German watched with interest as a blue gaze traveled from the computer to Bradley, back to the computer...a slight flickering of eyelashes, and a mental scolding...back to Bradley where they remained for a few moments before hastily returning to the computer.

/Pathetic./

The boy had only recently gotten over his obsession. It was quite funny. Nagi, of all possible people, in love with Crawford. Cold, seemingly heartless Brad Crawford. Well, Schuldich never claimed to have precognition, and he had no idea how fate would work itself out. For all he knew, Brad and Nagi might even end up together. Happily ever after, or as close to it as they'd ever get.

/Nagi, Nagi, Nagi. He's nearly old enough to be your father. How did you manage to fall for him, eh/

Nagi knew he was only playing with Farfarello because Crawford would be home soon, and the Japanese boy didn't want to miss one of the few times he had to observe the older man. Somewhere deep in his subconscious, Nagi sensed there was a darker, and perhaps sweeter reason for his previous need to imitate and his current desire to see the man he called boss. But he didn't care to dwell on it.

Who KNEW what the truth might be?

He floated toothpicks to Farfarello, who promptly shoved them (painfully) into the pale flesh of his own arm. Nagi barely winced.

Finally Crawford walked in, shrugging out of his creme jacket and massaging his shoulder-blades. The muscles were visible but not prominent. Hidden strength. Nagi listening closely to the intonation of the clear Japanese. Velvet on steel. Humidity before the lightning struck.

Schuldich ordered out, pizza, an American food that Nagi had grown fond of. Nagi liked squid on his, but Crawford wouldn't eat it that way, so they always got pepperoni. The three of them (minus Farfarello, who was having too much fun with the toothpicks) sat around the rickety kitchen table, slurping on beer (Schu and Crawford) and soft drinks (Nagi) and chewing on the cheap cheese of the meal.

Schuldich quizzed Nagi on his school life. Nagi gave him vague answers which Schuldich elaborated on mentally, digging through Nagi's thoughts like they were odds and ends in an old trunk. Nagi didn't bother trying to block him; too much effort for a lost cause.

Crawford ate, drank, and left silently.

Nagi watched.

Schuldich laughed in the boy's mind, the sensation akin to a spider's legs tickling his thoughts.

/Paying a lot of mind to Bradley-chan, are you/

"N-no!" A faint flush followed the denial.

"Suuuuure. You say that, but I know what goes in in that little head of yours."

Nagi snorted and shoved another piece of pizza into his mouth, letting the chewing distract him.

He was fifteen. And yet he'd never had a wet dream before. He'd heard of them, dreams that dropped you into a world of desire and even sex, but he'd never experienced it. Nagi pressed his legs together, desperately trying to rid himself of the tingling heat that resided there. He remembered soft moans, bare skin, sweat, heat, and most of all--a pair of coffee brown eyes.

'So THIS is growing up,' he thought bitterly.

The next morning, things were much clearer.

He'd dreamed of Crawford.

Shit.

He'd dreamed of CRAWFORD.

Why?

He didn't know. Because he'd have to like Crawford to have a dream like the one he'd had, right?

Like Crawford.

He ADMIRED Crawford.

A lot.

Okay, so maybe he did like Crawford. So what? No big deal.

Nagi pulled on the top of his dove gray uniform, studying his reflection for a moment. Hmm. The exact details of the dream returned, and his cheeks lit up.

Crawford.

Brad.

He sighed and prepared to leave for another day of High School Hell.


	3. ACT THREE: Sickness

Author: NagiLite  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: Ah, this routine...I lay no claim to the people in this fic.  
  
Quick Note: 'blah'=normal thoughts  
  
/blah/=telepathic thoughts  
  
  
  
ACT THREE: Sickness  
  
  
  
Nagi nearly cost all four members of Schwarz their lives.  
  
And in the process, he ruined any...any chance he had with impressing Brad. Brad now, not Crawford. Nagi sighed and fell back onto his bed, lost in thought.  
  
The mission had been so typical, so boring. Protect Takatori. They were ALWAYS protecting Takatori. Nothing new. It should have been an 'in-and- out' sort of thing. But no, they'd gone to the dull social event, and while the others had been observing patrons and guests, Nagi had been daydreaming. If only he had paid a little more attention...!  
  
He remembered the gunshots, and Schuldich's alarmed mental cry, Farfarello's delighted laughter. A sharp pain in Nagi's shoulder when the bullet whizzed by him and embedded itself in a wall over Mr. Takatori's head.  
  
The shock in Brad's eyes as they met the stumbling boy's, as Nagi fell to the floor, grasping the numb flesh of his arm.  
  
Schuldich ushering Mr. Takatori out, Farfarello attacking a fleeing hitman, and warm hands grabbing Nagi and turning him over.  
  
"N-Nagi?"  
  
The voice had been so insistent, not cold as was usual with their Fearless Leader. Lingering touches on Nagi's arm, tearing away the cloth of his suit and inspecting the wound. He'd barely been grazed, but damn, it had hurt, and it still did. He had been so upset, he'd tried to sit up, intending to telekinetically squeeze the guts out of the bastard who had dared to mess with Nagi Naoe...  
  
But his head spun. He recalled being lifted and staring into coffee brown eyes and then...he'd passed out.  
  
He'd only just woken up. Nagi reached over to feel the bandage that encircled his upper right arm. It would be a bitch to write when he was allowed to return to school.  
  
Of course, the worse part of it all had been the scolding Brad had given him. Normally Nagi wouldn't let it phase him, but he knew he'd been at fault, and had put them all in danger. Brad had been very cold about it, anger rolling off of him in freezing waves.  
  
"What does he know, anyway?" Nagi grumbled. "Thinks just because he's the oldest he can rule every aspect of my life...it's his fault in the first place. If he hadn't been on my mind..."  
  
The Japanese boy scowled and switched on his boom box, settling back to lounge in his feelings of resentment.  
  
***  
  
"C'mon," Schuldich said, leaning into Farfie's room to motion for the lunatic to follow him.  
  
"Where're we going?" Farfarello asked, pocketing two knives and spinning another fancily between his fingers. His single gold eye stared calmly as they left the Schwarz apartment and approached Schuldich's car.  
  
"Anywhere but here," the German said, climbing in and shoving the key into the ignition. His thoughts had been completely thrown off ever since Nagi's 'accident'. Stupid kid.  
  
/But Bradley is the one who has surprised me most of all.../  
  
Farfarello shrugged and ran a pink tongue over the sparkling steel blade he loved so dearly.  
  
And so Schuldich pulled out of the parking lot and headed for the highway, speeding up as soon as the wheels hit the smooth asphalt. He rolled down his window so the wind screwed with his red hair. It would be a bother to brush out the knots later, but it was worth it.  
  
Farfarello turned on the radio as he always seemed to do when Schuldich needed to clear his head, get away, and inevitably drag the Irishman along with him. The song was in Japanese. Surprise, surprise. They WERE in Japan. Schuldich sang along halfheartedly.  
  
"You know, Farfie, those two are idiots," he said suddenly.  
  
Farfarello didn't argue. Schuldich saw this as agreement, and plowed on. "I mean, it's so obvious that they at least feel SOME shred of affection for each other. Nagi and his 'hey, look at me, I'm Bradley Jr.' And BRADLEY. Carrying on about the boy when he was injured. Of course, YOU didn't hear him, Farf. He was talking in his head. Idiot."  
  
Schuldich snorted derisively. /I'M not going to enlighten them.../  
  
"You want to, though," Farfie chose to point out then.  
  
"Who asked you?" Schuldich grumbled.  
  
"I assumed you were addressing me. And you ALWAYS want to meddle."  
  
The telepath thought about this. /Do not./  
  
"I'm not arguing with you. So don't try it. Why don't you just follow your emotions? YOUR emotions CERTAINLY hurt God."  
  
"That's...pleasant." He tapped the steering wheel impatiently when traffic slowed and came to a near halt. He hated traffic jams. "But you know, you're right. They'll never figure it out on their own. I'd be doing them a favor."  
  
He smirked and reached into his pocket with some difficulty to retrieve a pack of cigarettes. He was no longer pissed. In fact, he couldn't remember the cause of his anger...ah well, it was unimportant. He had another game to play...  
  
***  
  
"Soooo, Bradley."  
  
The annoying nasal voice intruded through Bradley Crawford's concentration like a thorn. He growled in his throat and turned a withering glare on the other man. Schuldich. Always causing trouble. What did he want now?  
  
/Nothing, Dearest Leader. I happen to enjoy your company. Whatcha doin', eh?/  
  
Crawford gritted his teeth together and shrugged, forcing his shoulders to relax. He'd been typing up a report on his laptop, purposely ignoring the prodding from his Inner Child to check on Naoe. Crawford had given up on his Inner Child years ago.  
  
/Ah. Work. You always work, don't you, Bradley?/  
  
'Address me by my surname.'  
  
/Hmm...No. I like 'Bradley' better./  
  
Crawford held his temper in check. He'd been very tense for a while now, though he'd tried to keep it hidden from his team. His Inner Child kept muttering nonsense about loneliness and a chance at happiness with visual images to accompany...but Crawford ignored the words and the visuals. His life was fine.  
  
And his Inner Child tended to become excited over the smallest suggestions.  
  
Suggestions were not something one could bet one's heart on.  
  
Crawford doubled spaced his paragraphs and nodded satisfied. He realized Schuldich was babbling on about something.  
  
/...and Nagi--/  
  
"What about Nagi?" Crawford asked suddenly.  
  
The German smiled silkily. "Oh, nothing..."  
  
***  
  
The next day Nagi was allowed to stay home from school. He was almost happy about that when Schuldich informed him that Farfarello and himself were going out to a movie and Nagi couldn't come.  
  
"But why NOT?" Nagi asked suspiciously.  
  
/You're too injured to go to school, bishounen?/  
  
Nagi shrugged. "So?"  
  
"So you're too injured to leave the apartment. And the theater is not in the apartment. Too bad for you, huh?"  
  
And so Nagi was left home alone. Not completely alone. Brad was home for all of five minutes before he left without an explanation.  
  
Nagi lazed about for a while, and settled for watching television. His arm hurt too much to type. In fact, it hurt a lot more than he figured it should. He'd ask Brad about that when/if he returned home. Nagi flipped the channels until he found a talk show.  
  
'Weird. So THAT'S what happens when your father is also your mother...'  
  
He watched with great interest.  
  
He didn't even notice sleep overtake him, but suddenly Brad was shaking him awake, a startled look on the serious face.  
  
"Nagi? Nagi?"  
  
"Wha--?" he asked groggily, trying to move and then yelping in pain. His whole right side felt on fire.  
  
"You're burning up," Brad said, one cool hand resting on Nagi's forehead. "Damn. I think your wound is infected."  
  
But Nagi was no longer listening. He felt light, as if he were floating. He giggled a little. But when Brad disappeared from his vision, he began to worry. He waited. Then a warm, wet cloth was pressed to his face. It felt good. But he was hot. He began tugging at his shirt.  
  
"Unnn, Braaaley, 'm soooo...so..." He forgot what he was going to say. Brad hovered worriedly above him.  
  
That was when the chills started, racking the small body with uncontrollable spasms. Brad said something roughly, and lifted Nagi, carrying him somewhere. Finally he was laid in a bed. Too bright in the room. He threw an arm over his eyes and burrowed into the covers.  
  
"Inflammation...have to get some sort of medical attention...call Schuldich..."  
  
Nagi's mind started to shut down.  
  
He called out something even he wasn't sure of. No reply. He called again. "Braaaa..." His voice was hoarse; God, he needed water...  
  
"Braaaad," he finally managed to say. The man was instantly at his side, stoic and calm. "Brad." Nagi smiled a little, reaching out and vaguely wandering if this was what he normally would have done. Ugg. He was going too--  
  
He vomited all over the floor. Brad cursed and jumped up, leaving momentarily and returning with a towel which he laid over the mess. Nagi coughed an embarrassed, 'sorry.'  
  
"It's...okay. I'm going to go call Schu's cell phone--"  
  
"NO!"  
  
"Naoe, you're ill, I have to--"  
  
"Brad, d-don't l-l-leave me!" Nagi shivered and ducked his head, close to tears. His head was all scrambled. "P-please..."  
  
He was hot again. Just like that. He kicked the blankets off feverishly, moaning at the pain the movement caused. A startled pair of eyes watched him do this, then slid away to rest on a blank point in the wall.  
  
It was about that time that Nagi's telekinesis decided to go haywire. 


	4. ACT FOUR: Hallucination

Author: NagiLite  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: I lay no claim to Schwarz, or anything in the Weiß Kreuz world...other than the Alternate Universe me living there in North Carolina. Hi, me!  
  
  
  
ACT FOUR: Hallucination  
  
  
  
"Shit."  
  
That was about the only helpful thing Schuldich could say, his ear to his cell phone and his eyes on the slasher movie, though he really couldn't see it. His mind was elsewhere. He had been sure they'd sterilized Nagi's wound...but it must not have been enough. They wouldn't take him to the hospital unless he was on the brink of death...  
  
Bradley knew how to take care of infections. But there was no way he could do it all by himself and tend to Schwarz work. No way in hell.  
  
"C'mon, Farfie," Schuldich whispered, hanging up his cell phone and tugging the madman to his feet. "We have to go home."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Our little Nagikins is ill."  
  
"Can't we finish the movie?" Farfarello looked longingly at the theater screen and the blood and guts it portrayed.  
  
"No," said the German firmly, heading for the exit.  
  
***  
  
Crawford wished he had his gun with him.  
  
A book whizzed by his face, barely missing him. Stationary objects were suddenly flying all over the place. A result of the affect of sickness on Nagi's telekinesis.  
  
He was sorely tempted to shoot something, anything. His Inner Child especially. It was really starting to get to him, and all kinds of stupid emotions along with it. He had cleaned and bandaged Nagi's bullet wound. It really hadn't been too serious when he had first received it. Now it was puckered up and a sickly shade of black.  
  
Nagi himself was moaning throatily and tossing about. It must have hurt a lot.  
  
Crawford had a vision then, standing in the middle of utter chaos. He saw Schuldich and Farfarello and a LOT of cars. That wasn't good, he decided.  
  
There were a great many things that Bradley Crawford didn't notice, but the fact that he was already late for a meeting with Reiji Takatori was not one of them. Until the other members of Schwarz returned to the apartment, Crawford couldn't possibly leave the boy there alone. Naoe was a very valuable asset to Crawford's team, one he didn't mean to lose.  
  
And also--  
  
No. He glared inwardly at his Inner Child and then left Nagi's room to try to find medicine for whenever Nagi should awaken.  
  
***  
  
Darkness.  
  
That was all there was at first.  
  
Drifting in and out of consciousness, Nagi fought to grasp onto something, anything.  
  
Colors, now.  
  
So, so hot....  
  
A face that seemed so familiar, he instantly clung to the image.  
  
But when he tried to put a name to it, he realized this was quite impossible.  
  
His memory was too jumbled.  
  
Like a puzzle.  
  
Who was that person...?  
  
Oh.  
  
Yes.  
  
It was Love.  
  
THAT was something he hadn't thought of.  
  
Love.  
  
He laughed noiselessly.  
  
That face.  
  
Brown eyes, glasses. Black hair. He reached out invisible fingers to touch the soft strands.  
  
(In the real world, Crawford shivered as telekinetic hands ran over his body.)  
  
All so nice, he thought. So nice...  
  
Love.  
  
(Crawford watched with vague interest as a satisfied smile played over Nagi's previously-twisted-in-pain lips.)  
  
***  
  
Hours later, Schuldich leaned against the doorframe of Nagi's room, surveying and listening.  
  
The thoughts of both males were highly fascinating.  
  
But he paid the most attention to Bradley's.  
  
Oh, how sad. Bradley had missed an important meeting with that bastard, Takatori. All because of Nagi and the traffic jam that had delayed Schuldich and Farfarello. Well, what had the man expected? Afternoon traffic was ALWAYS bad.  
  
And was that repression? Bradley was hiding something from himself?  
  
Schu dug deeper, pushing aside memories and worries.  
  
There.  
  
/Awwww./  
  
He laughed hollowly and Bradley turned from where he was crouching to glare questioningly.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
/The Fearless Leader is in looooove./  
  
'What. Are. You. Talking. About.'  
  
Schuldich flicked his hand at the American.  
  
/You can be so stupid at times. You process lies through your mind as you process water through your body--easily. If I were you, I'd pay attention to my psych./  
  
And smirking, Schuldich watched as Bradley left Nagi to him. The pre-cog's shoulders were set as he exited the room. Schu patted Nagi's head comfortingly, though the boy didn't stir.  
  
/He'll get it someday, chibi./  
  
***  
  
Love never smiled, Nagi noticed, still floating in a weird dream world.  
  
He'd stopped trying to touch the face, because he knew it didn't get him any closer to Love.  
  
(As a result, Nagi's telekinesis was in check.)  
  
All he knew was that he never wanted to lose that image. He wanted it to stay right where it was in this universe of darkness and color, staring deep into Nagi's soul.  
  
(Schuldich leaned back from eavesdropping on Nagi's hallucinations. Interesting. Very interesting.) 


	5. ACT FIVE: Humiliation

Author: NagiLite  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: Alas, I own them not.  
  
Notes: Thanks to all the people who reviewed. Though it's not much, this is dedicated to you! ^-^  
  
  
  
ACT FIVE: Humiliation  
  
  
  
/His fever is gone, Bradley,/ Schuldich 'said'. He knew Bradley would pick up the telepathic call.  
  
The symptoms resulting from the infection had lessened over night, and now they were nearly gone. Nagi looked like he might be waking up. Schuldich, impatient, pushed the boy's shoulder roughly.  
  
"Chiiiiiiiibi," he whispered into a faintly pink ear.  
  
Sapphire eyes fluttered open, then crinkled in the bright morning sunlight.  
  
"Un...whuzzit?" Nagi asked groggily, trying to sit up. Schu snorted and shoved him back onto the mattress.  
  
"Stupid. You aren't completely recovered."  
  
"R-recovered?"  
  
Schuldich listened closely to Nagi's thoughts as they flew from one conclusion to another and finally settled on a well-known image. Well. Bradley. He mulled over this a moment, told Nagi to stay put, and went smugly in search of Bradley.  
  
He found the man glued to a computer screen, square fingers dancing over the keys. Mission report. Blah. Maybe it was an apology to Takatori as well, for missing out on a fun-filled evening of plotting and revenge.  
  
/Heeeey./  
  
'What?'  
  
"Guess what I found out?" He didn't wait for an annoyed reply. "He was thinking of you."  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Nagi."  
  
The puzzled look on the American's face was priceless. Schuldich grinned and hugged himself. /When he was unconscious. The person he thought of all that time--was YOU./  
  
And the expression that flickered across his features after THAT little revelation was worth the world.  
  
Schuldich smirked and prepared to fight tooth and nail to prove to Bradley Crawford that he was a man head-over-heels in love with a little Japanese telekinetic.  
  
***  
  
Nagi waited until Schuldich left the room to sit back up. He gawked as the walls began to shift, then realized that must have something to do with his 'recovery'. If he was recovered...that meant he obviously must have been ill. He took a peek at his bullet wound, and found the answer there.  
  
Bacteria must have seeped into the wide cut (covered in gauze now) and caused an infection. Everything seemed to be flowing back to him now.  
  
He thought of darkness and cappuccino-colored eyes and decided he wanted to see Brad.  
  
The hallway to Brad's bedroom/study was dark and silent. Any moment now, he was sure Schuldich's voice would start singing off key, and Farfarello would run to greet Nagi, brimming with some new disclosure. Nagi, I found a kitten this morning, wanna see? Nagi, do you like potatoes? Nagi, help me finger-paint, will you? Why? It creates chaos and disorder, that's why! Nagi...Nagi...  
  
He shook his head. Apparently, he wasn't completely healed as of yet. Supporting himself slightly with his left hand on the wall, Nagi approached the closed door of the room he'd passed so often.  
  
Two voices drifted out, and he paused, his hand above the doorknob. An argument was taking place inside, he decided. He really shouldn't interrupt...  
  
The first voice became louder, and Nagi couldn't help but lean closer to listen.  
  
"You jump to conclusions, Schuldich."  
  
"And you fool yourself. You not only deny love yourself, you deny it to the boy--"  
  
"Naoe doesn't need me any more than I need him, and I am perfectly fine on my own. Do you understand?"  
  
"Understand that you're an asshole? Yeah. Understand why you're torturing him--"  
  
"He's fine."  
  
"Bradley, he's HURTING inside, and he's confused--"  
  
"I won't hear any more of this nonsense. I feel nothing for the boy..."  
  
Nagi's heart stopped. So did the voices.  
  
Then Brad's, calm as ever, stated, "He's going to run away..."  
  
But Nagi didn't hear this. He was already gone, stumbling to the doorway, not even bothering to throw on a coat as he disappeared in the insipid streets.  
  
***  
  
When Nagi had been very young, and had believed in a God and in silly things like love and honor, he had dreamed of living on a cloud. A big, fat, fluffy cumulous cloud, white with gold edges.  
  
So he'd always liked cathedrals, with their elaborate paintings of seraphim and cherubim playing in heaven. On clouds.  
  
He stood outside of an old cathedral now, hands in pockets, fighting tears that he refused to cry. His attire was crumpled, his right arm hurt, and he felt like he was breaking apart from the inside out, but there seemed to be nothing he could do.  
  
Brad, no, Crawford, didn't love him. Didn't even like him. What had he expected? Open arms? He was only a little boy, after all...  
  
NO! He wouldn't let ANYONE discriminate against him because of age, not even himself! How many people had he killed, anyway? How many souls had he damned to hell?  
  
He entered the cathedral quietly, slipping past the heavy iron doors and approaching the sanctuary. Sanctuary. That was what he needed now.  
  
It was deserted except for maybe five or six people, all on their knees and praying to a god that Nagi didn't think existed. Praying for themselves and their loved ones. Praying for forgiveness from sins brought on by Satan.  
  
'I'm the only devil they'll ever see,' he thought sadly.  
  
Then he looked up. And, as always, was taken away by the depictions of endless sunsets and enchanted gardens. Clouds, everywhere. Angels. He reached, as if by doing so, it would bring him closer to his desires and to something--anything, other than this feeling of utter betrayal. The tiny flames in the prayer-candles began to flicker as a telekinetic wind picked up. The worshipers didn't notice at first, didn't notice until the flames grew and grew and wouldn't stop.  
  
They fled.  
  
Nagi still stared at the ceiling. And then as suddenly as the wind had come into being, it left, blowing out each and every flame. Nagi was left in almost total darkness. He waited for his eyes to adjust. He walked toward the alter--and his foot hit something. He reached down to pick it up. It was a tiny gold crucifix, perfect and chainless.  
  
He pocketed it.  
  
When he reached the alter, he knelt, bowing his head.  
  
'Dear God or Whoever. Forgive me for my lonely heart. Amen.'  
  
He never had been skilled with prayer.  
  
***  
  
Schuldich glared at Bradley.  
  
"You've done it NOW. Why didn't you tell me he was there?!"  
  
"The vision came too late for me to know. All I saw was..."  
  
Schu waited for the American to continue, but he didn't. When the telepath tried to delve into the thoughts of the other, a strong mental barrier was slammed down.  
  
/Hey.../  
  
Bradley stood up, dusted invisible lint off his clothes, and left.  
  
***  
  
In a vision, Crawford had seen a church. At least, it looked like a church, much fancier than the tiny country ones from his own childhood.  
  
He had seen unmistakable blue eyes bright with trapped tears.  
  
That had been the final straw. He had lost what little self-control he'd had then and had decided to go after Nagi.  
  
Maybe even apologize, a concept entirely new to him.  
  
But first he had to find this church. 


	6. ACT SIX: Rain

Author: NagiLite  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: It's a very sad world when a girl can't claim her favorite characters as her own. :(  
  
Notes: Maybe slightly OOC? I'm trying so hard to stay in character...  
  
  
  
ACT SIX: Rain  
  
  
  
"SHIT!"  
  
Farfarello looked up bemusedly as an irate German stalked into his room and grabbed his arm, hauling him down the hall and out the door. The psychopath didn't bother asking what was wrong; he knew that Schuldich wouldn't reveal anything in his current state of anger.  
  
Soon they were both belted into Schu's BMW and cruising down the highway, reminiscent of many other car rides. Schuldich cursed loudly inside both of their heads until Farfarello was forced to turn on the radio to drown him out. He rocked back and forth with the music, humming bits of songs he was familiar with.  
  
Finally, Schuldich said spitefully, "Bradley really is a bitch, you know?"  
  
Farfarello shrugged carelessly, cradling a knife in his hands, wondering if they would stop at a city park and maybe cut up a few squirrels. God loved squirrels. So Farfie liked to mutilate the small furry creatures, tear them apart...  
  
/After all that time I spent planning and manipulating him...he HAD to go and break the kid's heart. Couldn't stop the cold-heartless-bastard routine, noooooo. Callous jerk./  
  
Schuldich slowed slightly at the sight of a cop, but sped back up again as soon as the officer was past.  
  
/I'd love to see someone get the best of Bradley Crawford, wouldn't you, Farf?/  
  
"Can we go to the park?"  
  
Schu sighed and patted the pale hand resting in the space between them. "If you really want to waste your time in a cheap imitation of nature...maybe I'll feel better after terrorizing a couple of small children."  
  
***  
  
Crawford went to every church near their apartment. There were very few of them, but at last he came to the oldest and dreariest, a cathedral with tall iron doors. He went through a small graveyard to get to the entrance.  
  
He paused before going in, hoping for a vision, but none came.  
  
What good was his precognition if he couldn't even use it when he needed it the most? He straightened his impeccable suit and prepared to face whatever might come like a man.  
  
***  
  
It was so dark. Nagi reached out blindly. His right arm hit something, and he cried out. If he had known where a light switch was, he would have used his telekinesis to provide the necessary luminance...unfortunately, he wasn't even sure if there was electricity in the cathedral.  
  
Finally he grabbed onto what felt like a pew. He followed it until his hand met air instead of wood. Damn.  
  
He stumbled around another five minutes before tripping over his own feet and hitting his head on hard stone. Warm liquid seeped from a burning cut on his head and invaded his eyes. A ragged sob broke from his throat, one he instantly choked back.  
  
No crying. He wouldn't give in so easily.  
  
Abruptly, radiant light blinded him. He gasped and covered his face.  
  
When he could see again, he almost wished he could be back in the darkness. The tall form of Bradley Crawford stared coldly at him, brown eyes anything but warm. As the man approached, Nagi stood and backed away.  
  
"Naoe--Nagi. Nagi," Crawford said, sounding as if a frog was caught in his throat. Nagi nervously wiped blood away from his eyelashes, and the pre- cog was instantaneously at his side, bending to see the shorter male better.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"Nothing. Stupid accident," Nagi said. Well, he meant to say it. The words came out as a hoarse whisper. He could smell Crawford's cologne, a brand he'd been told was 'Old Spice'. American, like Crawford himself. The familiar smell made him tear up again. He frowned and wouldn't make eye contact.  
  
"It's bleeding profusely. There are bandages at the apartment," Crawford said shortly. Was that...PITY on his face, in his manner? Did he purposely touch Nagi so gently? Not likely, Nagi decided. 'I don't need his pity...'  
  
"Actually, I think I'll stay here," said Nagi, forcing a lighthearted tone in his words. "Really, it's not as bad as it seems."  
  
Crawford snorted. "Ridiculous. You're coming home."  
  
At this, Nagi turned away icily, settling into one of the pews. "Don't treat me like a child, Crawford. I can damn well take care of myself."  
  
"I'm your superior. You'd do well to show me respect. If I say you're going with me, you're--"  
  
"Can't you see I'm not ready yet?!" The desperate note in his voice surprised even Nagi. He curled in on himself, trying to sound braver than he felt. "I can't--I can't take much more of this. All I want is to be left alone...Just until I heal."  
  
"The bullet wound?" He sensed rather than saw Crawford's disbelief. "I was sure it was mending--"  
  
"NOT that wound. You--you don't understand! You never do."  
  
He was ashamed to feel wetness that wasn't blood trail down his cheek. He rubbed it away furiously. He wanted to hurt somebody, anybody, make them feel as bad as he did. He wanted to level this stupid church with its stupid clouds and its stupid dreams to the ground, and then spit on the rubble.  
  
"Nagi...Okay. Maybe I don't understand." Calm as ever, but quiet, soft. Not a thing Nagi was used to hearing, and he found himself listening closely. "But...I just want you to know..."  
  
The words trailed off, as if Crawford wasn't sure how to continue. "Know...what?" Nagi prompted.  
  
"That...I am sorry. I know what you heard. Of course, you stumbled upon the dregs of my argument with Schuldich...and you shouldn't have heard any of that."  
  
"And why is that? Didn't want to hurt my virgin ears? I'm not as innocent as you seem to think, CRAWFORD. I'm as much a part of the team as you guys are. You should at least be...partially honest to me."  
  
"Aa. Which is precisely why you shouldn't have heard my lies." Crawford plowed on even as Nagi's mouth fell open. "I'm very, very good at denying things. An art I've perfected over the years. It's hard to lie to Schuldich, as you may have seen, but I believe you've taken my words to heart. And I'm sorry for that."  
  
Nagi swallowed, and nodded. "I--I see...I think."  
  
"Listen, we can chit-chat later. I want to clean that cut."  
  
"Yes."  
  
Nagi stood and followed after Crawford's retreating back, running the conversation through his head. Had that been a...confession? Crawford-- Brad--actually...maybe...liked him? At least a little? Or was he making a mountain out of a molehill as he seemed to do so often?  
  
Upon exiting the cathedral, something cold hit his face. He paused and said, "Look, rain."  
  
The gray sky let loose and droplets fell around and on them, soaking them both. Brad frowned and tried vainly to wipe his glasses.  
  
"I hate precipitation," he said disgustedly. "It's impossible for me to see in it."  
  
Nagi chuckled softly, feeling his burdens lighten, and grabbed the older man's hand, squeezing it softly. He felt Brad try to pull away, but he held fast. So BIG, compared to his own.  
  
"I'll help you," he explained, pulling Brad along after him. 


	7. ACT SEVEN: Conclusion

Author: NagiLite  
  
Rating: R  
  
Disclaimer: Poor High School student coming through! (And I'm not even a GOOD High School student...) Obviously, I don't own Weiß Kreuz.  
  
Warnings: L-I-M-E. That spells 'lime'. And I don't mean the fruit.  
  
  
  
ACT SEVEN: Conclusion  
  
  
  
In a perfect world, or even in a story book, Brad would have taken Nagi home, cleaned all of his wounds. Days would have passed; they would have steadily become closer, building their relationship on tentative glances and sweet touches. Perhaps, after many months, they would have kissed-- softly.  
  
But the world of an assassin is not perfect, and both were assassins. Both were imperfect. Brad reverted to his cold mannerisms, put gauze on the cut on Nagi's forehead, checked the healing wound on his arm, and ordered him to go to sleep.  
  
Nagi lay awake, eyes wide and not the slightest bit heavy. Rain pitter- pattered on the roof and window, a comforting sound. He rolled over, yet was still very much alert. He ached all over. And he was angry.  
  
'I should have initiated something. Now he's just the same-old-Brad, so cool and collected...That's not how I want him to be with me.'  
  
He wished Schu was home to entertain him. Even Farfarello's presence would have been pleasant. He was bored. A clicking sound went against the rhythm of the rain. The keys of a laptop. So Brad was working. Brad was ALWAYS working. Didn't he ever get tired? The gray sky darkened to charcoal black. Nagi placed his hands behind his head, sighing loudly.  
  
Enough was enough.  
  
He flopped out of bed, crept to the door of his room, peered out. Pale light was slithering across the floor of the hallway from the crack under Brad's closed door. Nagi headed towards this light on tiptoe. He was right outside, about to open when--  
  
"Come in."  
  
Nagi cursed Brad's precognition. He'd KNOWN Nagi would come.  
  
"Hi, Brad," he said carelessly, strutting in as if he hadn't been sneaking around like a spy before. He sat on the edge of Brad's bed, the only furniture other than a dresser and a desk upon which was seated the laptop. Brad went on typing, muttering a half-hearted, "Don't call me Brad."  
  
"Okay, Brad."  
  
They remained like that in silence. Nagi was reminded, however, of his earlier thoughts while lying under his covers. 'Initiate something...initiate what? What do I want to do?'  
  
He thought. And the image of a past dream appeared. He blushed faintly.  
  
'But that was...a dream. A wet dream. The type the guys at school talk about.'  
  
He sort of wished he could be back in school, then, just so he could inquire about the nature of sex and lust, drawing off the knowledge of the well-informed schoolboys. Or he could always ask Schuldich. No. Too embarrassing. He was too close to Schu to discuss...things of that nature.  
  
"I've had the most interesting vision," Brad remarked. Nagi was surprised; the Schwarz leader rarely revealed his visions to anyone unless it was absolutely necessary. "I saw myself waking up tomorrow...around noon. I saw you beside me. In MY bed. Now. Isn't that a coincidence." He turned to throw Nagi a wry glance. "What ARE you planning, Naoe?"  
  
'Back to last names, are we?' Out loud he said, "Nothing at all."  
  
"Somehow I doubt the accuracy of that statement."  
  
"Really. I'm here for a perfectly innocent reason."  
  
"What might that be?"  
  
The voice was dangerously low. Nagi swallowed convulsively and lied, "I need painkillers. For my head. It hurts."  
  
"They're in the medicine cabinet above the bathroom sink. You know that."  
  
"I, uh, can't reach that high." Another lie; yes, physically he couldn't reach the top shelf, but his telekinesis could have easily acquired the medicine for him. He didn't mention this little fact, however.  
  
Brad gave him a funny look. What a weak excuse, Nagi scolded himself. But he kept a perfectly neutral face.  
  
Grumbling under his breath, Brad got up and exited the room, Nagi following close behind. The bathroom was small and cramped and Nagi was forced to sit on the toilet lid as Brad struggled with the safety-top of the Aspirin. He held out two little pills, and Nagi opened wide his mouth, making clear his intention.  
  
With a resigned sigh, Brad dropped the pills in, handing Nagi a small paper cup filled with water to wash them down with. When that was taken care of, he asked, "Better now?"  
  
Nagi placed a hand to the bandage on his forehead. "Dunno. This thing feels a little loose." It didn't. But that was beside the point.  
  
The American rolled his eyes, pushed up his glasses, and leaned so close to the young boy that Nagi thought he could inhale Brad. Gentle fingers pulled at the gauze, testing it's security. Nagi ignored this and reached with a shaking hand to touch the frame of Brad's glasses. The man started and tried to pull away, but Nagi wrapped one arm around his back.  
  
He pulled off the glasses, Brad cocking an eyebrow.  
  
"Perfectly innocent, eh? Let go of me."  
  
The telekinetic refused to answer, instead using his powers to hold the man there. He liked the coffee brown color of Brad's eyes, just like in his dream. What had he done then? He'd unbuttoned Brad's shirt. He fumbled with the first button, his mind hardly processing what he was doing.  
  
'Don't think.'  
  
So he didn't.  
  
He enjoyed the grunt that escaped the dark-haired man's lips as Nagi ran his fingers delicately over the now bared chest. Tan, strong, just as it had been that night while he was sleeping. And there, two nipples the color of brown sugar. A shiver went down Brad's spine when Nagi touched one of the little nubs softly. Then the other.  
  
"Let. Me. Go. Now," Brad said angrily, not bothering to struggle physically. That clearly wouldn't help.  
  
Nagi gazed at him through chocolate eyelashes. He smiled. "Why? There's nothing you can do about it, not at the moment."  
  
"I don't WANT this."  
  
"You do. Because I can see it in your eyes. You said you're very good at lying to yourself; I see what you meant."  
  
The Japanese youth ran his tongue over first one nipple, then another, hoping he was doing it right. Nonononono, he reminded himself, don't think. Don't worry. Or else you'll never be able to do this.  
  
"L-look, Naoe," Brad said haltingly, his breath coming out in short gasps. His eyes were like fire instead of ice when Nagi met them. "You can't...WE can't...have intercourse."  
  
"Why not?" Nagi demanded.  
  
"You're FIFTEEN. I know we aren't meant for anything...not anything like this."  
  
"So I'm old enough to kill, but not old enough to love you?"  
  
"L-love? Who said a-anything about LOVE?"  
  
Nagi bit lightly on the skin of Brad's chest, trailing a hand to rest on his belt, tugging provocatively. Yeah. What DID love have to do with it? Well...Well. He loved Brad. There, he'd admitted it.  
  
But he didn't vocalize this realization.  
  
It didn't take very long for Nagi's caresses and fleeting touches to arouse Brad past the point of caring, and minutes later Nagi was being pulled onto Brad's bed, his clothes half off already.  
  
It hurt terribly when Brad entered the telekinetic, his breath warm against the other's neck. Nagi wanted to scream, and he did so. Why would ANYONE want to do something that hurt so damned much...and then his screams changed to whimpers as Brad's thrusts collided with a special spot inside of him that made him dizzy.  
  
God. His fingernails dug into a firm shoulder, and he threw his head back, moaning loudly and discovering that that only made his (partner? lover? fuck-buddy?) more eager. A calloused hand wrapped around the boy's straining erection, and he finally cried out in release, a rush of colors and meanings parading by too fast for him to fully grasp...  
  
Brad tensed, then relaxed, his thrusts less frantic until they stopped all together. He rolled off of Nagi and onto his side, facing away from the boy. Nagi shivered at the sudden loss of warmth. The room was so quiet that Nagi could hear the strength of the rain outside increasing and decreasing at intervals.  
  
He shakily brushed against Brad's shoulder.  
  
The man pulled away, muttering something.  
  
"What, Brad?"  
  
"You...you realize I just committed statutory rape, right?"  
  
"I always thought that rape was when a person was taken against his or her will," Nagi snorted. Then he hugged himself because he realized Brad wasn't going to. He thought of the darkness of the church and realized his arm was throbbing with pain from his previous activities. Hmm. He wasn't a virgin anymore, was he?  
  
But he'd never even kissed Brad. He should do that now.  
  
"Brad?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
He was a little alarmed by the fact that Brad didn't scold him for not using his surname. But he was determined.  
  
"Kiss me."  
  
"...Why?"  
  
Nagi sighed exasperatedly, propping himself on his elbows. "You just screwed my brains out, and you won't even kiss me? If you don't want to-- know what? I don't CARE if you don't want to. I have waited WAY too long for you, Bradley Crawford. Humor me, please, kiss me like you love me."  
  
"...Love you?"  
  
"YES!" He sat straight up, glaring daggers at Brad's elongated form. By the dim light from the laptop still on the nearby desk, he could make out the beads of sweat that rolled off of his skin. "Love me like I love you!"  
  
He shut up then. THAT hadn't been a part of the plan, the one he'd been making up as he went. Yes, he'd had a satisfactory night, and yes, he loved Brad, but he wasn't supposed to blab about it.  
  
The body next to his went very, very rigid.  
  
Then, slowly, Brad got up, twisting around to stare at Nagi with eyes that were strangely large without their familiar metal frames.  
  
And then Brad kissed him.  
  
It was a soul-searing,, heart-busting, I-want-to-make-you-mine sort of kiss, with tongue and lips and everything that Nagi had wanted. He trembled and felt warm arms encircle him; naturally, he fell into the embrace. THIS was what he'd been waiting for all of his life. This was good.  
  
Brad pulled away, pushed Nagi gently back onto the mattress, tucked the sheets around him. A smile flickered over the pre-cog's lips.  
  
"Go to sleep, Nagi."  
  
***  
  
Farfarello had had a LOT of fun in the park. Too much fun, Schuldich thought, images of terrified squirrels flashing on his mental television. Normally it would have been funny. But the psychopath had nearly gotten them arrested. And now it was--what, past midnight?--and they were FINALLY home.  
  
Farfarello gleefully plopped in front of the T.V. to watch a snake documentary (/Ewwww./) and Schu went in search of his other two teammates, fully intending to complain to Bradley about the difficulty of 'convincing' officers to do 'favors' nowadays.  
  
He peeked into Bradley's room...stared bug-eyed...and silently shut the door.  
  
Nagi had been lucky that night.  
  
Good for him.  
  
Bradley would just have to hear Schu's complaints in the morning. But out of irritation, the telepath promised that he'd give the American a massive headache when he awoke.  
  
***  
  
Blissfully, Farfarello became bored of snakes and began flipping through channels. He waited a few minutes, and, true to his predictions, Schu returned with a bowl of extra-buttery popcorn. Farfie thrust one pale hand into the bowl, smiling when the butter made him greasy.  
  
It was common knowledge that popcorn and horror movies hurt God. 


End file.
